


No Matter How Far

by Edwardina



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Light Dom/sub, Mild Genderbending, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-06
Updated: 2009-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S and B are getting along like lemon and lime.  Gossip Girl wants to know: just who's under whose wing, here?  Is B really the boss, or is she overcompensating?  Does S really like B walking all over her like that, or is it just another way to wage war against her raging A.D.D.?  Has anyone asked Nelly Yuki?  We hear she was under B's wing once upon a time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Matter How Far

**Author's Note:**

> Written after 214. Smushed book and show canons as usual.

Dan's tongue was nearing her tonsils, and his hand was up her skirt, when Serena's phone chimed. She broke off from him after a moment, moaning sheepishly. It seemed like they kept getting interrupted whenever things seemed like they might get even slightly interesting. If Serena was a guy, she'd have total blue balls, but as it was, she'd just need to change underwear when she got home.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, clutching her phone and staring at Dan with puppy dog eyes.

"'S fine," Dan panted. His lips pressed flat with as if he was suppressing saying it wasn't actually fine, and Serena understood, appreciated it. She smiled at Dan, apologetic and rueful, and flipped her phone open.

_From: Blair_

_I need you! Now!_

"Oh," Serena said. "It's Blair. She needs me. I have to go..."

"Blair? Again?" Dan asked, and Serena didn't realize she was already on her feet, practically running away, until she felt Dan going after her with his hands, catching at her arm and her scarf.

"I'm sorry," Serena said, obediently stumbling to a halt in front of Dan's door. "I'm so sorry, Dan. But Blair's such a mess right now. She needs me. Now. Right now."

"What could she possibly need you right now for?" Dan asked, some of that irritation in him blowing itself out in a sigh. "What, is there some kind of plan for revenge going on? Because I've heard revenge is a dish best served cold. Is the revenge melting?"

"What?" Serena said distantly. "What are you talking about? No... there's no revenge. She just needs me."

"Maybe I need you," Dan prompted, hand sinking into the wild blond waves dancing down her back.

"Dan..." Serena's voice was reproachful, like by holding her, he'd said something untoward and uncalled for. "She's my best friend."

"I know, believe me, I know," Dan said, and stared back at her, lips pursed. "It's just that... you can't just drop everything and go running to her every time she says she needs you. You're conditioning her to think that she can just boss people around."

He looked at her as if maybe she was too stupid to understand what he was getting at. Serena hated that. She stood up a little straighter, the way Blair always told her to when they were eleven and Serena's doctor had warned her about scoliosis when she spurted up two inches in six months. She was taller than Dan with these boots on.

"I really have to go," she said coolly, leaving no room for Dan to argue; she stepped away from him and slipped out his front door, hearing him give a puff of resignation and annoyance behind her. It seemed like that was a noise she heard no matter whose room she was leaving, so she was used to it -- and anyway, Blair needed her.

 _On my way_ , Serena texted back.

Serena hurried across town as fast as the cabbie would take her, overpaid him, and put a call from a guy she'd danced the night away with in Buenos Aries on ignore as she made her way up to the Waldorfs'. Dorota met her in the foyer with her wide eyes and never-in-season lips.

"Miss Serena," she said, hushed, "thank goodness. Miss Blair is upstairs."

Worry lit Serena's heart. "What's wrong? Is something wrong? Is Blair okay?"

"She is in not-so-good mood," Dorota whispered, taking Serena's jacket.

"I'll take care of her," Serena promised.

"Yes, Miss Serena. I know you will. You such a good girl," Dorota said, ushering her to the staircase and watching her climb up each step.

Serena never knew what to expect from Blair's text messages, unless they were explicit, which wasn't her usual style. Sometimes she arrived to find Blair in front of her mirror, clearly debating the merits of some outfit versus another, or needing an opinion on how something looked from the back -- sexy or slutty. Sometimes Blair was in a panic over a test and wanted Serena to put arms around her and reassure her that she'd do great.

And there had been a couple of times -- not recently, but since Serena had gotten back from boarding school -- where she'd found Blair crying in her bathroom, the stench of vomit nearly undetectable beneath the air freshener.

But then, there were other things Blair wanted sometimes, and those were the things that made Serena's fingers sweaty on her phone, made her twist it awkwardly in her fingers as she approached Blair's bedroom door, which was closed. Blair had a sign that she'd stolen years ago from The Palace that said DO NOT DISTURB, and she'd hung pointedly it on her doorknob.

"Blair, it's me," she called through the door. "Open up."

"It's open," Blair called back, and she slant of her voice was impatient. Serena wondered how long it had taken her to get there; if Blair was pissed at her, or if she was just needing to explode to someone about Chuck. Again. Today.

Serena let herself in. Blair had closed her curtains to block out the January light, and she was sitting at her vanity table, her fingers resting tense on a headband she'd been wearing at school as it laid in front of her. They seemed to relax when Serena came in.

"Lock the door behind you," Blair said mildly. There was no silent 'please' in the sentence at all.

Serena locked the door, then tugged at her sweater, pulling it straight over her Constance skirt.

"You look disheveled," Blair told her, moving her headband to some imagined position of perfection. It was casual, and not mean, and Blair was even puppeting it to sound amused, but Serena knew her better. Way better.

"I got here as fast as I could," she said earnestly.

"Really? Were you busy?"

"No," Serena said, then instantly felt guilty. "I mean, I was with Dan, but..."

"Ugh, say no more," Blair said, rolling her eyes away from Serena, then finally forcing herself to stand up. Her shoulders seemed heavy. But when she turned to face Serena again, she looked cool, collected, and she spoke sweetly. "You did well, getting here so fast, just when I needed you."

There was no way she was going to cry about Chuck -- not right then, anyway. No way was this a fashion emergency, either. Serena clutched her phone and took a step further into the room. Blair just looked at her for a moment, up and down, the path of her eyes obvious even without the way her lashes bobbed.

"I need you, Serena," she said then, queenly somehow. "You want to help me, don't you? That's why you stopped playing around with Humphrey and came to me, isn't it?"

"Of course," Serena said. "I'd do anything for you, B, you know that."

"Of course," Blair returned, and smiled calmly as she reached over to open her bedside drawer. Serena felt breathless, even moreso than when she'd not very politely dashed through the lobby downstairs. Blair was pulling out a clipboard, ruby red, with clean white paper on it, upon which a list had been printed off. Serena hadn't seen that clipboard in forever, not since before they'd gotten in a stupid cat fight at Yale.

Blair tucked it against her chest and pulled a pen from its clip, giving Serena one haughty-looking glance as she did so.

"Hair," Blair murmured, as if to herself, "down. Curled. Wind-blown."

Serena shook her head slightly, just to make her hair shine and move for Blair, so she could see how clean and well-maintained it was. Blair was a sucker for that kind of thing, and though she got a stiff look down the nose for it, she knew Blair liked it.

"Make-up," Blair continued, and eyed her critically. "Minimal. Lip gloss... all kissed off. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to deduct points for that, Serena."

"Oh, yeah," Serena said, touching her at her mouth. Dan had smeared it all away, and she'd been in such a hurry she hadn't touched up at all. Behind her fingers, she smiled coyly at Blair. "Dan can get really enthusiastic."

"Noted," Blair said, her face almost comically disgusted. She moved on, though, after writing something down that Serena couldn't see -- probably something like, _Note to self: destroy Dan Humphrey_. "Clothing. School uniform, altered as per usual, _not_ within school guidelines. Loose tie. Is that Erik's school sweater?"

"Yes," Serena said gaily. "It smells just like him."

"Brother's sweater," Blair muttered as she wrote. Serena couldn't tell if Blair found this sexy or not, but Serena suddenly thought it was sexy as hell. Reckless and masculine. Maybe if she wore some stupid sweater of Chuck's, Blair would like _that_.

"Overall appearance..."

Here, Blair paused and gave Serena a deadly eye-narrowing, and Serena put her hands behind her back, standing up straighter -- but she couldn't help a little wiggle, swiveling at the waist back and forth in an impatient, sing-song, schoolgirl fashion, grinning in spite of herself. It didn't really matter if she flunked every single report card Blair filled out on her, even though it went right into the permanent record Blair kept. Blair would make it all right.

"You know what you look like?" Blair asked, then, doing her fakey, too-nice smile. "You look like you just got fucked. Wouldn't you say? 'Freshly fucked.' That's what your overall appearance is."

"Oh, but I didn't fuck Dan," Serena said.

"Good," Blair said, a little too fast, then hastily wrote down another note before slipping her clipboard back into its drawer and slamming it shut. With much ceremony, she locked it, then put the key in her antique jewelry box. When she was done, she looked inexplicably happier, like the whole proceeding had satisfied her immensely, and she leaned back against the vanity. 

Unlike Serena, she hadn't gone home with a boyfriend right after school to try and mess around before his dad got home, so she'd changed into a little black dress (recognizably Audrey-esque) suitable for going out to dinner, and though her feet were bare, she was in a pair of black silk stockings. Serena could only guess what frou-frou underwear she had on underneath it.

After a moment, Blair straightened and slid over onto her bed, her dark hair framing her face as she looked piercingly at Serena.

"Very well. You can touch me, Serena," she said, as if it was stupid that Serena wasn't trying to make out with her right at that very moment. The way she said Serena's name was so awful -- she was the only person who said _Serena_ like that. Everyone else said it like Serena was a goddess come to earth, too grand, too long. It wasn't that Serena hated grand, but Blair said it like she was talking to a little yappy dog poking out of someone's Chanel purse. Like Serena was her dog. A pet.

Serena advanced accordingly, dropping her bag and phone and going down to her knees. She crawled playfully over; Blair looked a Blair-ish version of ecstatic, smug and trying to tamp down on a telling grin.

"Tell me how to touch you, B." She raised both hands to feel at Blair's silk stockings. Brand new, she thought; she'd never seen them before.

"Just do what you want. Just -- make me forget," Blair said hitchingly.

From what Serena knew of Chuck, he'd really done a number on Blair -- she'd had a dream, she'd whispered to Serena one night on the phone, about him doing _that_ to her in a limo. Serena had surmised, because she knew what Blair would easily say and what she'd be more squeamish over, that Chuck had gone down on her. Probably a lot. That explained why Blair was so addicted to him. But it pushed _that_ out of the picture, as if it was territory Chuck had claimed in Blair's mentality.

"Unzip your dress," Serena told her, and Blair, for all she was the queen, slowly obeyed. Serena reached up and pulled it from her shoulders, off her arms, and surged up to plant a kiss into the warmth of Blair's chest, just between her breasts, her heart beating erratically beneath. "Now lay back," she said, mouth feeling pleasantly used from making out with Dan and smudging easily up to Blair's throat. Blair sank away from her, back against her fluffy, pristine coverlet, and Serena straddled her lap quick and easy, hands going from the silk of her stockings to squeezing her breasts through her too-fussy bra.

Serena liked to pretend, go on wild flights of fancy, in bed. Well, she did it any old time, but it was fun to do during sex, too. Sometimes she was distinctly French, passionate and unbridled, and sometimes she'd pretended to be shy with Dan, liking the way it made him feel like he needed to lead her along and take care of her. Dan was fun. She'd pretended she was a guy with him, once, but didn't bother to tell him; she'd just pushed him around, grabbed his cock and said, "Nice one, dude!" when he'd shot off up his chest. With Nate, she'd been drunk, but acting way more drunk than she actually was because it was just fun to do that.

Maybe it was wearing her brother's sweater, or the fact that she'd been trying to hook up with Dan for days, but right then, Serena felt demanding. She wanted to take what Blair was offering, and she didn't feel in the least romantic about it.

Blair gasped for her, and Serena swooped low to kiss her. Only --

"Can I kiss you?" she asked, because she'd gotten points deducted for swapping spit with Dan before coming to Blair. 

But Blair just gasped, "Yes!"

Serena loved to kiss girls. She loved to kiss, in general, and she loved to kiss guys because they were such guys, but girls were fun. They let her lead. They let her kiss, and when they responded, Serena felt like she'd won something. Everything between a guy and a girl was like autopilot; of course the other would respond. But when girls responded to her, it wasn't _expected_ of them. And Serena loved the unexpected.

And Blair was such a needy kisser; she opened up like she was trying to breathe through the kiss, was begging Serena to kiss some life into her, and Serena poured herself into it wholeheartedly. Blair needed her. She kept it tame at first, though insistent, their lips moving tight and slick, then went for the kill and plunged her tongue in dominatingly, making Blair whimper in her throat.

They'd done this a lot, ever since they kissed in the hot tub when they were drunk, and it had fucked everything up unrecognizably until they'd forced it back into place in a messy fashion. It was like practice, they reasoned at first. It was getting better at the art of kissing. Plus, it was fun, and they thought each other better kissers than the guys they'd kissed up till ninth grade. But now Serena had no explanation for it all, and it was so good -- every time it happened, she couldn't have expected it, but she lived by Blair's ebb and flow. She always had. She always would.

Serena's fingers skittered down Blair's rib cage, then back up to thumb over her nipples, and then she slid one hand right up her skirt to grasp at Blair through her panties. It felt so flat and smooth that Serena's head spun. Blair had obviously waxed, maybe in anticipation of demanding Serena serve her, and the idea of Blair laying there thinking of her the whole time just made her feel wet again. In fact, this whole garter belt and stockings get-up was totally getting her horny all of a sudden.

"You're wearing a belt," Serena panted, mouth dragging against Blair's, the both of them soft and lippy as they caught each other into a kiss again. "So I guess I'll just leave these on..."

She hooked her index finger into the elastic leg hole of Blair's panties and gave it a teasing snap.

"You'll just have to work around them," Blair told her unapologetically.

"Around them? I'll work through them," Serena returned, mischievous, and Blair just gave a sharp, injured little moan as Serena's thumb slid knowingly over her clit, the silk of the panties slipping over her easily.

"Kiss me," Blair ordered, in a breathless, pathetic squeak. Serena closed her eyes and kissed her again, sweet and hard, earning herself needy noises as her fingers worked in stroking circles. She was patient for a minute, rhythmic, then her attention span wandered and she scrambled her fingers into Blair's panties so she could feel all that wet, warm skin right on her fingertips.

Against her mouth, Blair whimpered, and Serena stroked her bare clit, slippery, twice before Blair seized and came. It was easy, and Serena felt a pleasant surge of confidence and care.

Feel better? she wanted to ask, but didn't, because Blair would turn sour at the drop of a hat, and it was nicer to feel her breathing, feel her chest catching and struggling over her orgasm. It was nicer to kiss her and feel the heat radiating from her skin, nicer to slide her fingers low and feel the slickness of Blair's come seep against her fingers gently.

After a minute, Blair seemed to recover, and grabbed at Serena's haphazard school tie with a sudden sharpness.

"Very good, Serena," she said archly, even though she was still breathing hard. "But I'm afraid your points didn't warrant reciprocation."

"Really?" Serena moaned. It was confusing; a shock of disappointment went through her, but the unexpectedness excited her, made her feel so horny that she wanted to ride Blair's thigh until her come was shining up and down the length of her skirt and maybe on her stockings, too.

"It's sad. You did so well, too," Blair said, not sounding near as sympathetic as she could have. "Getting to me so fast, and all... but I can taste Humphrey on your mouth."

"Oh, sorry."

"I forgive you," Blair said, and wrenched at Serena's tie rather roughly. "But don't think I'm not going to punish you for it."

"What's my punishment?" Serena asked hopefully.

"Hm." Blair just smirked up at her. "Take off your tie."

Though her hand made its way wet from between Blair's legs, Serena sat up and obeyed, reaching up to pull the tie from its loose circle around her neck, her hair all falling through the loop of it in waves.

Blair seemed to approve. "All right. Now fetch mine. You know where I keep them."

Serena did; Blair hardly ever wore them, but she knew where Blair kept just about everything. She'd spent so many hours of her life in this room, giggling over ice cream and watching _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ and trying on discarded Eleanor Waldorf creations, even doing the occasional homework. She moved sensuously and plucked at a tie while Blair sat up, looking crooked, and slid back into her dress top.

"Zip me?" she asked liltingly, standing for Serena, and Serena obeyed, sealing Blair back up and all that bare skin away from her. She had to fight the urge to reach around to feel Blair up through the dress, because that's what Nate or Chuck would do, and Serena was still on the verge of fantasy. "Now, you turn," Blair directed, and Serena found her hands being tied behind her at the wrist.

"Whoa, B," she said, bemused, but Blair was weirdly efficient with knots; Nate had taught her a bunch when they were just kids, and Serena had forgotten them all, but Blair was anal about everything having to do with Nate. She'd not only remembered them all, but regularly had Nate drill her on them for years. It was a little scary, in retrospect, and now that Serena's wrists were bound with a knot she couldn't wiggle out of or undo.

"I'm going to have a drink with Nelly Yuki," Blair said cheerfully. "From what I hear, she's a gold mine of useful information. It shouldn't take but an hour. I can only stare at her glasses for so long before I want to start shouting at her about getting contacts. You --" there came a push at Serena's back. "Are to stay here, on my bed, waiting for me. I'll bring you back some tiramisu, and if you're good, I'll let you have it. If you're _very_ good, I'll let you have something else."

Serena felt dazed, but in a good way, like she was high. She cooperatively let Blair lay her down and arrange her on her stomach, her hands stuck together at the pit of her back.

"It's okay," Blair told her. "I'll tell Dorota you already left and to stay out of my room."

She hadn't even thought of that; how would she explain being tied up on Blair's bed to the maid if she came in with a fresh set of bed sheets or something? What if Nate just dropped by, or Chuck?

"Boy, you really give Chuck a run for his money," Serena grunted, gazing up at Blair somewhat helplessly. She frowned at his name, which made Serena rush on. "What if I have to go pee or something? Can I get off the bed and make a break for the toilet?"

"Sure," said Blair, gathering her bag and rooting through it distractedly. "If you want to ruin your skirt and probably your boots, too. And I'd have to deduct more points for that."

"Okay, no bathroom break. Got it," Serena said.

"Good girl," said Blair, and paused, staring down at her for a moment before bending to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, S," she whispered, tickling Serena's ear and spine. "So much." The tickle wound up somewhere between her legs. "I'll be back soon."

"I love you too," Serena returned, muffled as she hid her pleased smile in Blair's pillow. It smelled just like her.

"Oh!" Blair piped. "I almost forgot."

Over Serena's eyes went Blair's ridiculous sleeping mask, cool satin going hot in an instant against Serena's skin.

"There you go. I'll see you in an hour. But... I guess you won't see me."

"Blair," moaned Serena. This was unfair. She could hear the smile in Blair's voice, hear her click away in a pair of heels and shut the door and call to Dorota from a distance. Silence settled in, that white noise of New York City traffic and of the wind blowing between skyscrapers, and Serena tried not to wiggle, even when her phone rang and vibrated against Blair's bedroom floor. It was Dan's custom ring, and it went on for what seemed like a year. She probably owed him further apologies.

Sorry, Dan, she thought, but Blair's my best friend.

And she was seriously trying to be a good girl now.


End file.
